Touched down June 29th in Taloyoak same time as a rare Arctic thunderstorm. Some folks on the flight had been hooting and hollering on approach, the turbulence giving a little fright. Many aboard the half empty plane were destined for Gjoa Haven, a few pissed off that on the milk run to home they could not exit the plane at route stops for a smoke. Having spent their time down south in Edmonton, the long mandatory quarantine before a granted re-entry to Nunavut must have been an ultimate bore. Two weeks in hotel some place, just waiting for a flight… imagine it..?

For Nunavut, closely and wisely monitoring the gates has worked to keep Covid19 from arriving in their Arctic. What this means right now for the north is many restrictions at home don’t exist, it’s more-or-less life as usual. Schools had shut the doors back in March when all this shit began, and Health Care Centers for a time were on red-alert, but now after more than 3-months has passed, most folks today are just towing the lightest line, doing what little is asked and only hoping this viral way of life will soon come to its end. Go out of Territory for any reason though, all must be prepared to spend weeks isolating in order to return.

At Corona’s worst, its beginning, I was in Coral Harbour Nunavut on the top of Hudson Bay. Admittedly at that time there were a number of stressful personal and professional concerns. Upon leaving there for home first of May, I decided that rather than wait until August for any usual return, that instead working through July might be the wiser choice. Seeking three, six week contracts for this year, Kivalliq out of the way already and Baffin scheduled for November, I was happy the Kitikmeot found a place for me this summer in one of my favorite communities, Taloyoak.

The few winter contracts are all about work, so the hope with every summer contract is to try and squeeze in as much fishing and outdoor fun as possible. If any had read the second in the Nunavut Nomad series of articles, it was an account of my time in Taloyoak during August 2017. It really is an exceptional picture loaded read.
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A NUNAVUT NOMAD II. Taloyoak’s Caribou, Char & Child.
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But sadly, a recent change to an employer which does not allow any extra time benefits before or after contracts and, the present day mandatory two week quarantine period in place for those once reaching Nunavut destinations, meant both would greatly impact the amount of extra enjoyment I may find in Nunavut this summer. Besides this, my dates don’t match up quite as well with char fishing either, especially colorful char fishing, and probably coincide more with shallow laketrout fishing in the ice-off back lakes found all around here. But we’ll see what happens, that I’m sure…

Planning to just write this story as it comes, this being the first entry, I have no idea what’s in store for the fishing ahead, so bear with me. Together lets see what July in Taloyoak has to offer..
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First full 24 hour work shift was a little rough. Does not appear we will be seeing any more help arrive here, this likely means two nurses to share the on-call, down-staffed. The next 35 days I could be working 24 hours a day, every day, and straight through the contract. Kinda scary, as my first shift overnight last night was rather fractured with a mental health case, an angry drunken phone-call and an RCMP visit with an intoxicated person needing assessment. The heat of the apartment here almost 27C, I wasn’t sleeping much anyways….

Now as I sit sipping my coffee late morning on Canada Day there is not a single soul to be seen walking the streets. Only the water or sewage truck is out and about servicing homes. While I was up through the night, every time I glanced out the window there were kids, adults, ATV’s and vehicles buzzing about. Behind the hospital children played baseball to after 1:00am. With 24 daylight I guess it doesn’t matter when folks be up and about, and it is cooler through all the morning hours, but I wonder what this nocturnal behaviour does for development in children, how it affects home life, structure, proper meal times, etc… or maybe that’s all just my own kinda standard-life thinking creating bigger questions than need be?

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I’m going to put together my fishing rods, torture or motivate myself… Going to hope and pray that by Monday maybe I’ll be able to sneak out the back door and find some lakers. Everyone I have talked to in town says the fish are starting to run right now, being caught in nets at different camps along the melting seashore and inland streams. Around town here, nothing much is happening yet but maybe soon some will be swimming along the shoreline.
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Stir frying some honey teriyaki chicken the glass lid on the pan somehow exploded. Large pieces were easy to see and pick out of the meal but missed were all the little dusty sand-shards. The dinner had taken enough time to prepare and I was starving, so it really did suck carefully chewing and swallowing glass with nearly each bite. As if not bad enough, I stepped on a piece, sticking it in there pretty good… drats!!! Just what I needed before my hike out on the land.

Admittedly still exhausted from the night before. Friday work began at 8:30am and didn’t finish until Saturday morning at 8:30am. The 24-hours was busy, got three meal breaks in and that’s about it. Frustrating too, I needed to Medevac a patient down to Yellowknife, so when the Air Ambulance called me around 2:00am to see if I could contact the local air-traffic fucker who was supposed to be working at the airport and present to provide them a weather report, well plenty energy and my ability to care depleted fast.

Leaving my patient in the hospital I drove on up to said airport and rattled the walls. Nobody there. At this point I realized the Medevac would be on hold all night, thank God it wasn’t life or death or anything, this time! But then, right at 5:00am I received a call notifying the plane was on route, but could I try and reach someone for the fuel truck. What the F$&%?!! That guy was nowhere to be found either. When finally dropping my patient off on the runway I decided then to drive through the entire town laying on the horn the whole time. Just wake everyone up early!!!

But didn’t do it, just went to bed instead. The next nights on-call work ended at a decent 1:00am and I managed a solid sleep. Well rested, having not been outside for any fresh air in over a week, when morning came I decided to slip away alone… after tweazing that piece of glass out.

Short four hours the heat was unbearable. Daytime high of 13C it had to be 12C already. No wind I was sweating up a storm. Panting, the heavy breathing attracted hordes of newly hatched, blood thirsty mosquitoes. Now I had put on some Deep Woods but shit, that stuff is for deep woods, whattaya do about tundra? OFF has gotta come up with better, call it something like “Hard Tundra,” bump up that deet percentage and lower the price.

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Check this buzzy video out!!!
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ARCTIC MOSQUITOES!
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But man it felt awesome to breathe some fresh, arctic air and stretch the legs. The ice not off the lake, enough of an area was found to cast. Over the span of a couple hours I’d get five little lakers not one of them strong enough to take the slightest ounce of drag. Seemed that when the sun just peeked through the clouds there would be some action, otherwise the fish laid pretty low. Happy with what I got, the lake has some decent ssshmediums that may play another day.

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After selfies in the snow, some scenery pics and a snack it was decided to get back. Had the ice been off the lake I’d have taken a long walk around to see what damage could be done but for now the area was spent. On route back I detoured to see how the ocean thaw was coming along at one of the only char spots accessible to me, it was still locked up with ice.

Arriving back to the apartment, someone had stopped by to deliver a big, fresh char. A wonderful treat I plan to share with the staff.

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Three days later I had a window one evening to get out fishing again. Watching the weather all day long it slowly began to cloud over but the sun held out as long as it could. A race against time, dinner was wolfed down as soon as 5:00pm rolled around. Quick drive and hike into the lake the second my feet touched its shores the rain began to fall. Within minutes the wind picked up and it began raining harder. Having sweat my ass off the last outing, this round I wore lighter layers. Well fuck, if I wasn’t cold and wet in no time, and kinda pissy after snapping off a leader and lure twice, in just as many casts. However, for about an hour I kept moving and stayed warm enough. From new steps along the lake not a single fish was found. Last straw was nearly stepping on a goose that sprung up from its nest just a hissing mad. Scared the living bejeezus out of me. Spirits thoroughly dampened I called it a day.
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It was hard to sleep the night before the first planned, full day outing with my friend Jordan. Pulling two nights first on-call in a row so to open up that free time, being a Saturday I expected to be up half the night seeing patients. When no calls came in beyond 8:30pm I did lie in bed, tossing and turning until after 2:00am wondering if the emergency phone was actually working properly.

A decent enough sleep the alarm went off at 7:00am and I texted Jordan to say we’d be good to go if he wanted to by 8:30am. A big breakfast, lotsa coffee, it was after 8:30am and I still hadn’t heard back. Texting again Jordan replied, “was up early and just waiting for your text.” He must have missed the first one. Regardless, he was over to the hospital in a flash to pick me up. The one hour morning commute to the fishing grounds, absolutely glorious!!! Everything a bother and exhausting vanished the minute the land was passing under me.

We rode through the valleys, along the ocean and over the hills, eventually arriving at Netsilik Lake and a camp there inhabited by Jordan’s great friends.

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Jordan had just ordered himself up a nice new stick and reel. The Fenwick Eagle 9’6″ Salmon/Steelhead medium action 2-piece was catching my eye. It’s rated for 10 to 20lb line and 1/4 to 1 ounce lures, those specs are right in the zone!!! Looked to be a little faster than my rod overall, for a reel he went with a 2500 series Shimano, spooled up some 30lb braid and the smart fella ran a long 15lb Seagar floro leader. My stick is still the 9′ Lawson medium 5-piece travel rod. Rated for 8-17lb line and 1/4 to 7/8 ounce lures, it’s a little lighter and whippier for tackling the possible huge lake trout and big strong char that could be swimming but, it does allow nicer play of any smaller and average fish, and it whips out lures a country mile. With the Lawson I like the 3000 series Nasci for now, spooled up with 15lb braid to a 12 or 15lb leader. It is a favorite rod of mine, given as a tip from my Norwegian friend, Richard the Viking. I do carry a second rod too, a 3-piece, 7′ Fenwick spinning that I keep at hand for throwing jigs, any chance at trolling in a boat or vertical jigging and, in case anything was to happen to the Lawson.

On Jordan’s second cast he hooked into a ripper char. Very quickly I was reminded of the power these fish possess. This one reel peeled a number of strong runs and then unfortunately came unpegged. Jordan confessed, the long rod fight felt great but he’d have to get used to it. I’m thinking, he’ll make some adjustments and dial it in a little more.

We moved spots. Just the one char and a laker at the first stop, the second place held some fish. Right to the shore I had a big laker follow but not take. That was enough for me to stay and work the area hard, besides, we both knew we were on good water, no stranger to fishing there before, and the caribou liked it too.

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Home court advantage Jordan drove the hook hard into his second char of the day. I heard the whip on set from a long bomb away. Looking over at him another char was tearing into his spool, Jordan called out, “this is a big one!” Didn’t matter to me big or small, I’d pretty much dropped what I was doing and got on route to the camera, then him.

A hot stick, a hotter spoon, a big guy with a crackin’ slop-largie hookset, Jordan’s fish play was as much a joy for me to watch as it was for him. We both knew he was into something fantastic and there was a nervous energy waiting for the char to tire out. These fish are notorious for getting off half the time, but we’d been laughing earlier about 60% of the time, all the time. Thankfully for Jordan the 40% won out!

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What a beauty!! Silver, peach, pink, orange, red or Chernobyl fire, char are simply stunners. A five pounder could surely bully a ten pound laker in a fight, they’re just that much more intense. We didn’t measure this fish but if I was to guess it was probably around 33 or 34 inches with a healthy 16 to 17 inch girth. I’ll add more to these deets later, but for now just know it swam off strong.

That’d be it!! Between the two spots we’d beat the bank for about three hours and change. Another area was calling my name though, Jordan had admittedly never fished there before but I knew the way. So, around 2:30pm we booked it 20-minutes to try a river. Upon arrival, my first cast did count for something, a first char of 2020!

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Jordan would follow up with a foul hooked laker which for a time he thought was Godzilla!!! The current pulls strong and so do fish when they’re coming in half backwards. Sadly though, that’d be it on the river spot. Left with the choices of continue on down flow toward the sea fishing new waters, back track to a different lake with lake trout or, return the spot where Jordan had caught his char, the big guy says to me, “man, make a decision!” So, I decided we go back to the earlier char spot and just keep grinding it out there.

No sooner did we arrive that Jordan stepped to the plate and drove one deep. Another one of those insane bull-whips of his, the char went round the bases before sliding on home. This one every bit the trophy his first fish was, it had a little less length we decided, but certainly some more girth. A peach of a fish, admittedly with Jordan by this catch, he was making me green with envy. It’d have made my trip entirely to just catch either of the two he’d did on this day.

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This one he kept and gutted on the bank while hordes of mosquitoes tried to eat his face. A plastic bag and a rock, submerged in the icy waters not a lick of color was lost while it chilled for hours before we’d finally depart home. Later that evening he’d give me the fish to keep and back in my apartment it did provide two thick, red fillets. Before processing though, I had the chance to measure. 31 inches with a 16 inch girth (gutted) That’s 10 pounds without it’s inards. And it’s why I guessed the other fish had been the size it was, for it had been a bit longer but skinnier. Just amazing!!

Half way back on a distracted retrieve Jordan said or did something that made me stop reeling. The spoon fluttered to hit bottom and when I turned the handle again the rod took a solid thud and bend. Fish on, right from the start it stole line before going entirely airborne, its big dark body clearing the surface. “A jumper,” Jordan called out. “Sometimes they do that!” I was into the fish I’d been casting all day and waiting all year for, and it was a real colored up char too!!!

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Light or tight the drag was barely adjusted, cause it was just right! The rod bent under strong surges from the char still allowed some room to flex if choosing to up the amps. Fish like these are so few and far between in my fishing life there’s a thrill which returns to me, that old familiar excitement, which as years have passed has become exceedingly more difficult to feel as time and experiences have grown.

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Char take me there, they give that big tug on your line and your heart strings. Any angler knows that kind of love. But this one was a heart breaker. After a strong effort, all the right intentions, feelings and vows, 60% of 100% of the time, it ends in divorce. The char took me for everything!

Swallowing pride, pity, and a smoked meat sandwich I turned to face the lake again and started over. That’s what it felt like actually, like starting over, but this time you’re off on a race after six hours of already running. In short time I called to Jordan, “how’s yer back dood?” Not sure what he replied, but about fifteen minutes later, “since you asked how my back is doing,” and glancing over he’s in a standing cobra stretch complaining that if he didn’t have the extra gut all would be fine. “Drink more water man,” the nurse in me says. Meanwhile, stiff I’m in half fucking agony! “Let’s try the other spot now,” Jordan shouts.

It’s getting on in the evening. The air is cooling and it’s switched from the northeast to the east now and just angled right to come across the still frozen lake. Where we are it’s open, but at the new spot we can see and hear a sheet of lake ice pushing right towards us in the bay. We have little time left actually.

On a cast that air drifted a little shallower than intended, come the flop and flutter something picked up the lure. It felt so friggin’ weird I wasn’t sure what was on the line. Did the lure foul…? Nope, it’s pulling. Did I foul hook a pan fry laker… maybe? But as the fish reeled into about half way, suddenly the pace picked up and quickly I was into something more. Then there were two hard but short rips. OK… not so laker-like those were, more char-ish. As Jordan approached to see what the fuss was, in the shallows I think he first caught sight of the char, then I did. Suddenly the nerves came back…

This time worry mattered not, a fish got caught!

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Real nice, not a Jordan fish but hey, it’ll come… or, again, because this story is a work in progress I coulda just jinxed it? Probably better to have confidence though..? Land of the midnight sun we packed our things, retrieved the nice char kept, and began towards town. Special day really, they all are for char in this Arctic land. When Jordan comes home to the valley some day, I’ll owe him a big ski, gar, sturg, eye or whatever he wants to fish.

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Sometime midweek I got away in the evening. Zipping out of town to a nearby, long lake, an hour was spent casting for lakers where some had been caught on that first outing. The north end of the lake still iced up, it was amazing that mid July had arrived and the lakes were not totally open yet. People in town were even saying that ice-out was so late this year, about two weeks behind.

But a warm evening rushing about, despite the mosquito hordes layers of clothes had to be shed. The fish uncooperative I moved on elsewhere, to another long lake that held the odd land-locked char and some lake trout.

By the time I arrived the air was beginning to cool, it was then I realized my 9/11 & September 2001 Temagami canoe trip fleece sweater was left behind at the other lake. Man, that 20 year sweater is a favorite, but I knew there’d be no going back ti’ll maybe the following week. Wondered if it’d still be there?

The second lake was a bust… well, I got one laker and not a bad one at that. With stress often mounting at work, it was just good to get some fresh air.
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The storm was a brewing. From a window of my apartment two days of uncharacteristically heavy arctic rains had just come to an end. Clouds breaking, sunny rays were shining through. Many in town who had taken shelter were now out and about, and as the hour grew later some were apparently enjoying the moment too much.

I got a call-in and attended to the patient. While downstairs around midnight, sun now glowing golden through the streets, voices were heard yelling. Angry shouts, lots of “fuck yous!” I asked my patient if she’d be OK getting home, she shrugged I dunno but said “yes” with her eyebrows. After she left, sitting charting in the office, it grew more and more obvious that many people were now drinking outside. Got that all-too-familiar Spidey sense that I was in for a long night.

No sooner did the head hit the pillow that I was woken again by someone frantic and telling me so-and-so was unconscious and coming to the Health Centre. Another immediate call right after, someone is here now that’s been in an accident It was the beginning of a six hour event lasting 3 ti’ll 9 am. For a minute at the beginning of it all I held hope it’d be over quick, then I sunk a little, then pulled up my Pamper and said, “I’m a big kid now,” and shifted my ass into all-nighter gear.

At most maybe 45 minutes was all I laid down. Jordan expecting me to text around 8:30am with some kind of timing to go fishing, it was about 7:00am when leaving him a quick message saying I’d like to push back ti’ll noon or so. Expected off by 9:00am, figured a quick hour or two nap then I’d be OK to go… but then that didn’t happen. Wired after the shift I tried to lay down but decidedly called Jordan to say, “can’t sleep, gonna have a huge breakfast for fuel, pick me up at 11:00am,” and thankfully he obliged.

Admittedly I’d been putting a lot on Jordan, which in turn places extra on his wife Lauren too. A couple beautiful young and busy boys to look after, anytime Jordan steps out the load goes solely to Lauren. Thing was, it felt like I had no choice but to ask. In fact, I had no choices but him at all.

Because the ice was so late no boaters were out yet. Once that season begins, people are more inclined to rent out their ATV’s not in use anymore. The 2017 summer trip I was all over the map being able to rent several times but also borrow several more. With no options this spring, only Jordan being available could get me beyond the few close fishing spots that were very hit and miss for smaller fish. Through the week leading up to this day, aware I was pushing for something to happen, the man really was a savior. I needed to escape from work like a junkie needs a fix.

The minute I set the hook into the first small lake trout all tire and troubles vanished. Our first twenty minutes were fish-less, but it was Jordan who got thinking maybe we should move much shallower. Huge rains had soaked the tundra for two straight days late Wednesday through Friday. On our ride to the fishing grounds at Netsilik, stream crossings were the highest Jordan had ever seen. The ground muddied and puddled, hordes of mosquitoes were hatching with the first rays of sunshine, swarms chasing us while we had rode out. With a nearby crick flowing in at our chosen fishing spot, once we moved over toward the inflow it was like hitting the jackpot. Great call by Jordan! Another angler nearby could only watch as we laid an absolute shit kicking on small lake trout up to about four pounds and change. One after another for about an hour caught in four feet of water or less…

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But enough of the small stuff we eventually had to move back and just keep peppering the char area. For hours we cast, catching nothing.

Around 4:00pm it was decided we’d move. Another nearby lake I had never seen, Pangnikto, was just up over a mountain, an easy ten minute trail. Swimming there are smaller land-locked char and bigger lake trout. Had heard it is beautiful and as I approached, it was.
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High ridges to the east and west funneled us northward and downhill toward the lake. Someone already fishing there whom Jordan knew, he would head over and chat while I took myself on walkabout. The fishing was slow at first but I kept moving towards a glassy surface where the sun shone hard in the shallows of a tucked-away corner. The warmer that water got, the more fish I seemed to find. After popping the first small char of the day, quickly gutting and putting it under some last floating ice secured with a rock, I got right back to casting. From a high vantage point, laker followers interested in the lure would come near shore then dart away. The longer casts though, some hit the mark and popped into fish mouths waiting at a distance. Another four trout, I walked back to Jordan to tell him the news.

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He had just finished a long conversation with Taloyoak’s Master Carver, an artist camping in his pop-up tent just up the hill. The carver had been taking a break from working on a big, granite piece that will sell for $1000’s but for now he’d just left to fish somewhere else nearby. Jordan remained, casting off the long point and doing well attracting smaller char to his feet.

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When stepping closer he says, “got char following my lure but they won’t take.” “Maybe they want something different,” I reply? Right there within 15 to 20 feet in front of him he’s danglin’ and jiggin’ his spoon back on the end of the cast. There’s two char I see swinging like they’re gonna hit but just not a hundy on the commit. We both bomb new casts out well behind them and on this retrieve back Jordan connects!

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Now the char in Panknikto aren’t giants so some say, but the flesh is blood red and succulent, a perfect table fare to cast for. A few lakers had already been caught off the point, now we were seeing char. Both up to the plate we started batting home runs on more greys for a short time, I soon hooked into one I’m guessing was a big laker but could have been char.

The fish stopped me dead on the retrieve but didn’t run, didn’t head shake, didn’t dive. Instead, it only started swimming across my view from like three o’clock to twelve. Just one solid weight that wouldn’t budge, took full control, and moved same slow pace onto the top of the long, submerged shoal that continued from off our point. All I could say is, “ohhhh no!” Watching it head for the shallowest, biggest rock about fifty feet out from me. There was barely a “tink, tug or thud,” behind that rock the fish merely left the lure behind. A strong and smart fish got the better of me.

Few casts later I got a little participation trophy to cheer me up! Such a place to spend a late afternoon, but right after the catch we figured it best to get along back to the bigger char spot. The ride over the mountain is a pretty one.

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The final hours were spent repeatedly casting the same waters. Shortly after arriving, a big char followed one of my casts to the shoreline, cruised around a moment chasing it’s tail then buggered off to two o’clock. Damn! I’d been tossing hardware for eons to get the chance at one of those.

Jordan perched over his favorite spot hooked into a big char. Heard the bullwhip snap, looked over as he was calling out big fish then spied the dorsal and tail breach in a kick. Big was right! But a couple more twists, turns and splashes and his fish came loose. He felt it… boy, do we all know that feeling. Hands over his eyes, “noooo” he cried, “that was the one I’ve been casting for all day.” Big was right, he was right, but when that kinda shit happens, it just ain’t right!

Pretty sure that was the wind out of our sails. A long day’s effort, the hour quad ride back across the tundra rock loosened our stiff backs after standing all day, yet by the time I reached the apartment I was whacked. A hot shower to shed the hard cold, my soft shell wanted bed but a few fish required cleaning first.

Up for 40 hours straight, 24 working and 16 fishing… just don’t know what to say about that really..?
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The following day was glorious but I had to work. Jordan took his family, Lauren, William and Jonathan up to where we had fished the day before. Much of their time was spent entertaining the kids and exploring but a little fishing was had too. William loved reeling in some lakers.

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Lauren picked up a rod for about a half hour, she planted her feet where I’d been the day before when that bigger char followed my lure in. As Lauren would explain it, she stopped reeling in to swat some mosquitoes on her hand and when she resumed there was weight on the line. Initially she thought she was snagged but then it got moving. Some intense moments Jordan explained but they luckily landed it. The fish would be Lauren’s biggest fish of any kind, ever! Taloyoak’s new school Principal schooled us, me especially, doing in thirty minutes what I’d been trying to do for two days. But really, you can’t get any better pictures to catch such a memory as this. Lauren with baby Jonathan packed away on her back in the amounti. That’s too Nunavut not to share.

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Three weeks finished out of five, it was a nice Monday evening when I slipped out after work for a couple hours to retrieve my sweater. Washed by the rain, dried by the sun, I found it lakeside on some rocks just where I had left it. Summer fresh it smelled.

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The lake coughed up one small laker but I didn’t stay long. The tour back to the Health Center I stopped by the Northern Store in town to try my luck fishing char in the bay. Kids and adults alike are sometimes seen there and I’d heard the odd one could be caught.

A lake nearby was draining high run-off through the storm pipe under the road which dumped into the ocean. Where it would flow in, when I arrived, it was easy to see feeding fish breaking the surface on the glassy, calm water. Spying on those dimples from above it was evident they were char, many of them in fact, but none were much more than foot-longers. Still, maybe there was a bigger one lurking about? Twenty minutes of casting later and nothing to show for it.

So moving along to Sandy Point I walked the beach out to a spot said to be the best. The last of some ice chunks still floating about, I wasn’t casting long before a fella rode up to basically say, “be patient, the char will bite here, I got eight in my net this morning.” Hmph!?!? A “net bite” you say? Then I asked him what the Hell this thing is I just caught?

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Couple kids making their way up the beach decided to join me. A teenage girl and her younger brother, she was fishing while he was playing in the sand. Neither of them wearing shoes, both sometimes standing barefoot in the water, that did amaze me. The little gaffer posed with his toes on some ice, the teen sister, well she kept doing her thing. Fishing around town ain’t easy but it’s still fun.

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Been really trying to capture the feeling in this write-up, like in others. Reality with doing it as it happens though, is that I’m completely wiped out from work and lack of sleep, and so that tends to pull things down into the deep…

Jordan and I would find a chance to escape for a third weekend in a row. Unlike the previous two trips which had heavy hour work shifts leading up to the fishing day, this time around I was tucked away in bed asleep by about 4:00am. Not an all night affair, just an 18 hour shift instead of the full 24. An almost uninterrupted 3 1/2 hour nap, only a rogue prank call at 6:20am stirred me enough for a necessary piss anyways.

Blazing out of town I was again free of all work and worry. The mosquitoes had suffered a tremendous die-off during the week past, not one bothered any exposed skin on the ride. We were off and running fast to make the best of our full day when we came upon a young lad out walking on the tundra. Crossing a stream in running shoes he’d been skipping his way on stones to keep his feet dry, Jordan rode up and asked what was happening?

He and others in his family had broken down a little ways up the trail. Not one but two ATV’s carrying seven people in all left them stranded. This lad refused a lift to town, basically about five klicks out I’d guess, so we rode on further to meet up with the rest of his family.

A mother, infant, little girl, little boy, older girl and the dad were all waiting around a rather roughly assembled Arctic Cat. Before Jordan could even finish his sentence the mother said, “YES!! We’ll take a ride.” Jordan looked at me, me at him, “no choice here bud,” I said. “Law of the land,” he replied.

Lost an hour of the morning but for the right reason. Jordan thought our deeds would be good for our “charma” today. The father offered some dry fish, bagged and left on the abandoned ATV we would pass by again but, that’s just not for me.

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Where Jordan and I parked for a pit stop we got to talking a moment about pressure. The pressure of catching a big fish. Entirely my fault I should know better by now, I have felt it time and time again with friends and family. Be it anything, a trip that’s been planned, fly-out, camping, big lodge, day in the boat or in the back woods, for whatever reason I pile the pressure on myself in hopes of everyone catching what they expect and having the great time they’d hoped for. A good friend of mine and some others have said, “Drew, you worry too much.” And they’re right!! Come by it honestly, just want the best so bad for everyone. Now I wondered if Jordan had a case of this too, for me to get a big fish. He seemed to express that, his big want for a big fish today, and the other day we were out too. He didn’t have to feel that, not with me, cause that’s usually my place. Catching a beauty trophy is always the cherry on top for sure, but the cake and ice cream is still plenty sweet too, I just need to remind myself of that more often, I guess? Though if I was to take the drive out of catching lunkers and put it somewhere else, am I gonna catch as many big, awesome, feel-good fish as I do? Does that really matter as much anymore??? Questions and pressure!

We drove past Netsilik Lake and kept on to Pangnikto. Because the char had bit better late day the past two outings we wanted to shoot for the chance at a bigger laker in the morning. We crested the mountain ridge dividing the two lakes and descended the fiord down to the shores of Pangnikto.

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Hopes had been high but a very strong south blow got us nervous. Any warm water that had been rising in the back bay was now certainly long pushed out allowing the cold from underneath to penetrate to the shorelines. Our first couple dozen casts I figured fishing would be difficult with the big temp drop. We changed spots, trying our luck elsewhere and this time soaking some baits in deeper water too. Just a couple followers for me and Jordan popped a small laker, it was evident we were right. Conditions change and the fish just weren’t on here like they had been the previous weekend. We left for Netsilik.

Different scenario on this lake was that the warm water was being pushed to the shoreline we like to fish. Most understand a windswept shoreline bite. Well, when we got started Jordan and I popped six lakers in six casts, three each. Then, we both had a missed cast followed by two more hits and two more fish. Eight for ten in minutes and after the first hour we lost count somewhere over forty lakers. Nothing was big at all but this action had us giggling like school yard chums, setting hook after hook into competing fish. Barely had to move down the shoreline either, lakers were stacked up like spring spawn crappies.

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We worked that water for a good seven hours, our backs ever in stiff agony from standing in place casting a million times over. The bite did eventually begin to wax and wane but it never fully subsided, we continued to pop lakers all day long, probably to give-or-take the tune of 90 to 100 fish. But, where were the char? We were hoping that some sun late day would maybe peek through the clouds and trigger them to bite, because besides the afternoon and evenings usually being better for char action, sun over clouds seems preferable too.

Nearing quitting time I hooked into a slightly larger than average laker which took a bonk for the BBQ. Shortly thereafter the man, the myth, the Netsilik char legend completed the big task of us actually catching a char this day. A second perfect fish for the table, Jordan’s surely got some of that good “charma.”

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Netsilik (Net-sil-ik), People of the place where there is seal, Inuit, all descendants of the ancient Thule. Over a thousand years, their territory has been north of Hudson Bay, especially from Committee Bay in the east to Victoria Strait in the west, north to Bellot Strait, and south to Garry Lake; the Boothia Peninsula It is entirely within the Arctic Circle. The sea begins to freeze as early as September, and the thaw is generally not finished until the end of July. The summer tundra remains wet, since permafrost not far below the surface prevents drainage. Many Netsilik Inuit still live in this area of the central Arctic, known as the Kitikmeot.

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Historically the Netsilik were nomadic hunters. The most important game animals were seals, which were hunted communally at their breathing holes in winter and stalked in spring. A hunter might have to stand motionless next to a breathing hole for hours in the dark and bitter cold. The people also hunted caribou, polar bear, and musk ox (in the east). The caribou were speared from kayaks as they crossed bodies of water during fall migrations or, stalked and shot on land. Smaller animals included fox and squirrel. Meat was and still is eaten raw, frozen, or preferably cooked.

Fishing, particularly Arctic char and lake trout, occurred mainly in summer and autumn, individually or communally at inland weirs. Fish was mainly eaten raw, although it might be boiled or dried and cached for winter. Other food resources included fowl, gulls, and some berries. In winter, people drank melted old sea ice, which loses its salinity after a year or so. Blood was another common drink.

Raw meat with a bloody drink,
through bitter cold and lasting darkness.
Nomads searching barren lands,
survive by way of Netsilik.
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Day after getting back with Jordan I came down with something. Swabs reported back on the steady flow of childhood patients showed the usual cold germs like rhino and metapneumo virus. There was little chance with the sleep deprivation and excessive overtime hours that after handling one babe after another I wouldn’t pick up a little bit of something. Heavy in the chest with morning cup-fulls of green hacked forth from lower lobes of burning Hell, I kept working through.

Saturday would be the only day off remaining for a fish tour. Leading up, still a bit ill, I luckily escaped the Friday night shifts hammering blows and actually nailed myself asleep in a coffin by 1:00am. A full eight hours later, no alarm, just one little phone call around 5:00am to maneuver, I woke rightly rested but to a hacking cough that nagged all morning.

Jordan and his family had left to camp for the weekend. Without him available, no rides interested and without any ATV’s to rent, I had a decent little plan to fish along the ocean shoreline at a few spots each end of town. Originally figured I’d go hard through the afternoon and evening, but fuck I just needed a decent breath first.

Breakfast, some Tool on YouTube, coffee, I was building up to readying the fishing gear when the apartment phone rang… It was the second-on-call Nurse, “we need you down here, we need all hands on deck.” No skirting this one, two critical patients, both eventually medevacs down to Yellowknife, it was work over play. And so, even when the dust settled by noon and I was back upstairs, the reality of one vehicle being out of commission leaving only one other for the medevacs, ideas of fishing were pretty near pooched.

I went anyway, just walked. Down by the church and around the rocky point there, casting over deeper rock bottom that was taking some ocean wind and waves. Little confidence in the area it was more or less a chance to get out for some fresh air but, boulder bouncing over the tough terrain only got me winded and coughing. Couple hours of mostly hiking was work enough, and that’d be it for fishing char this 2020.

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On my final night while enjoying the last cup of red, like the day I arrived, a thunderstorm passed through town.

The times out I did have were exceptional. Jordan and Lauren are exceptional too, and not only that, great role models who live and lead by example… I have to thank them both for giving me the bits of happiness amidst what was one of the hardest, tiring work contracts I’ve ever had. Thinking about my time there even more, not many serious anglers have the work life I do, a job that can set them up for such special chances like those which I find myself in each summer. I go north for work first, the fishing in summer is only a bonus, and this year the workload, staffing, on-call, patient expectations and sharp rise in alcohol related cases were just well beyond anything I have ever experienced during this season. In Taloyoak especially, a town I have really enjoyed revisiting these recent years and meeting some awesome people, it depressed me this time around to witness how it’s changing. But sadly, these difficult trends are on the rise in some places, the area of the Kitikmeot and town of Taloyoak showing some weakened immunity to this. As a 20+ year Nurse who has made a connection with the north, given most of his life’s work to the care of Canada’s Native and Inuit populations, I can honestly speak from vast experience. Both the future of traditional Inuit culture and healthcare in Nunavut could very well be in trouble if especially the youth replace times and life on the land, with the diseases of booze, drugs and addictive cellphones in hand.

My hope is to visit and help with Inuit always, by way of Netsilik.
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Thanks for reading. 🙂
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Bunk!
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